Hope
by Meredead Sea'death
Summary: When despair is all that is left and the world is awash with blood, even the smallest fragments of hope can be nurtured into a wildfire. To do so, however, will not only test one's mind and heart, but their very soul, even if torn away from their physical shell.
1. Frontpage

_The part where Mer shows what a lazy bum she is and doesn't want to do disclaimers at the start of each of her chapters and instead makes a mega-long page in front of her story for disclaimers. Yes, that is a great, terrible, horrible run-on. Mer says, "Bite me." __**If you don't care about disclaimers or what Mer has to say, just read the little bit below to the line and then jump on.**_

Heyho lovelies, and welcome to (or back for those whom read my original version of this called 'Shattered'), _Hope_ (the new name will be explained in later updates).

For those of you that were around here before, 'tis the same drill as last time. Except, much less on the crazy side and more basic.

This is what I call my 'Disclaimer/Update Page'. As being something that is exactly what it says on the tin, this page has my disclaimers and my notes for chapter updates. You can bounce back here and see my tiny bit of commentary on each chapter at the bottom- if a chapter has released, you can bet this page just got updated.

My policy on stuff is pretty loose. Please review, do not bash, enjoy what you're reading, and please do note that I have no absolutely controlled update schedule. I have lots of real life stuff that really likes to tie up my own time as well as my own original pieces of writing. The piece is also largely experimental, and growing to the point where in several places in my notes, it flat-out kicks the canonical/modded content I'm basing _Hope_ off of where the sun doesn't shine and runs away cackling. Please excuse the terribly cheesy summary- I'm terrible at summaries. Leaving the genres "general" for now. Really have no idea what I want to put on them since there is more than two. Only reason I have an M rating on it is just in case I decide to skip rope with a character's intestines while juggling cheese (oh wait, wrong game reference!), or... various other things that would give an M rating. *Wiggly pervy eyebrows* *Never would have the guts to actually post content connected to wiggly pervy eyebrows*

So... enjoy! And like before, don't decide to come on a witch hunt for me and burn my house to the ground for bad writing.

Thanks for reading!

_Meredead Sea'death_

* * *

**The ALL IMPORTANT, ALL SEEING, EVER-KNOWING GREATEST SPAWN KNOWN AS THE GREAT AND POWERFUL "disclaimer":**

Don't own Baldur's Gate, don't own any of the characters. Wouldn't have had the ideas for some of the characters without the excellent modding community out there (so many cookies and thanks to you all, from the smallest to the biggest). Only things I own are this computer, the sticky-note covered monitor, this poor darn keyboard that is so overused some of the letters are smudging off, and these two poor sods I call "Nimue Winter" and "Tristan Winter". No complaining, no suing*.

* Actually, you may want to sue me after. The hell I imagine I put most of my characters through while I'm planning alone is probably a crime against humanity somewhere...

* * *

_**~ UPDATES ~**_

_**10/5/13: **__We begin again! Yay! This time, much farther along in the arc, and much more in a darker spot. Ooo! Torture already? We're beginning with fun stuff right out the gate! For those of you that read the first one, you may recognize that blip at the start. Sit back, get the popcorn, and enjoy the new chapters. _

_**12/5/13:**__ Chapter II is up! Ending is... meh. It was getting long to me. Also, it's a bit jumpy. Sorry about that. Enjoy!_


	2. Arc I: Spellhold

**_Arc I: Spellhold _**

* * *

"The greatest hazard of all,

Losing one's self,

Can occur very quietly in the world,

As if it were nothing at all."

- Søren Kierkegaard, _The Sickness Unto Death_

* * *

_Blood. She could smell it dripping down the walls, pooling at the stones at her feet. Once, something like this would have made her weak and ill, but now, it was absolutely _delicious_. She scoffed at only how an hour earlier, she had been lying close to death. She wanted to laugh at the fact that she had been limping up until a few moments before. So this was how weak her mortal shell was after all? Why not abandon it? _

_She wanted to sit back and enjoy the scene and the raw power flowing through her entire being._

_"My... Child of Bhaal!" Bodhi exclaimed. "What have you become?"_

_A thick chuckle emanated from her bestial throat. "Stronger."_


	3. I-I (Arc I: Spellhold, Chapter I)

I

_(Arc I: Spellhold, Chapter I)_

* * *

_Her vision came back in a blur. Most of it was obscured by a sheet of her own long pale curls that had fallen into her face, but she could see movement between a few strands. Her head was throbbing, and something red was flowing into her right peripheral. She raised a hand to it, touching the warm ruby substance. _

_Blood. _

_Someone swore. "Out of my way! I told you to protect her! Hold on, Nimue!"_

_That voice was familiar. She knew it as well as she knew her own for she had known its owner from the womb. Tris. Tristan. Her brother._

_An armoured foot struck the floor next to her, and there was a deep laugh. Ominous, and exactly how the villains in the stories were described to laugh. She turned her head towards it, her hair falling out of her vision long enough to see him._

_Sarevok, garbed in his massive obsidian suit, his helm only exposing his eyes that glowed a fierce yellow. He held his sword above, only a motion away from bringing it down on her and ending her life. "Goodbye, runt," he said, and she knew he was smiling under his helmet._

_She never got to see his sword arc down towards her as a blur of dark leather and dark hair leapt over a pile of rubble, picked her up, and threw her away as if she were a ragdoll._

_As she struck the dusty rock floor on her waist, she heard flesh being torn into and a male scream of agony. Choking on air, she looked up, and she felt as if she had gone numb. _

_Ruby red splashed over her twin's pale skin as Sarevok cut into his right shoulder diagonally. The long sword he held in his hand tumbled to the stones below, clattering. In one last valiant attempt, Tristan lifted the dagger in his left hand and attempted to throw it. The small blade wobbled in the air and then crashed to the ground, sliding only a few inches away from her, completely off target._

_Her lips moved not of her own command. "Tris?" _

_Her brother looked at her, his eyes squinted in pain, but a smile touching his lips. "Be strong, little sister."_

_Sarevok arced his sword down again, this time the blade headed straight for her brother's neck._

* * *

The young half-elf was vaguely aware that she was cold. She was also vaguely aware that she was in tremendous pain from wounds she knew all too well would scar. Some were from knives, some were from burns, but the worst were the ones in her head. They stained not only her psyche, but reached farther down, strangling her heart with their black tendrils.

And finally, with a sorrowful admission, she knew they had begun to stain her soul.

It was the end of her futile resistance. The girl had been fighting darkness for… she'd lost count after four days.

First they had broken her physically. Her right leg that had already been in bad condition was now completely useless. Her wrists were raw and bloody from the leather cuffs. Then there were the cuts from the knives, some freezing while others white hot. When they grew irritated with her resistance from those, they burned her.

The first few days, the ones she could count, the half-elf could hide in her mind. From there, she could reach a happier place, one that was warm and filled with blessed healing light. It was a place as sacred as any temple she had entered and entirely silent, but she knew that it was safe.

Then they cut her off from it. She wasn't sure how, but when they hurt her, she could no longer hide. At that moment, it had become the beginning of the end.

After a while, they gave up just hurting her. They brought her companions—her comrades at arms, her allies, her friends. The closest thing she had to a family. She couldn't remember their names now, but she could remember their howls of pain as they cut and burned them too. It got worse when some of them tried to fight back.

The berserker man's tiny pet had gotten the worst when he first tried to resist. They had grabbed the tiny squirming creature and stuck a knife with a tip heated red from fire into it. She could still remember how the tiny rodent squealed for what seemed to be eternity.

She closed her eyes and tries to picture their faces. It was getting harder for her to picture them. There was the other half-elvish woman, the druidess and Harper with tanned skin and big green eyes, a stern, caring woman that cared about preserving the balance. The tattooed berserker man, big, bald, close to insanity, but always trying to do what he felt was right in his heart. The newest amongst her companions, a dark skinned ranger that was firm in his decisions as he was calculated, trying to get away from the curse that haunted his family.

There was also bounty hunter from Kara-Tur, friendly enough and capable of a good joke. Her mind smashed him down harshly, then, the label of 'traitor' being the nicest of words she had for him.

She struggled on the last two. The elf… there was an elf. Another ranger, showing as many emotions as a rock. Dark eyes, blue markings on his face. He wanted and had gotten revenge for… something. And there was a girl, just a little older than herself! A girl with short, bright red hair that she had laughed and played with since she was a child. The half-elf had let her down though—by the time they found the red-haired girl, she had not been right in her mind. She didn't remember them anymore and had threatened to stab out their eyes. That had hurt the half-elf's feelings.

A door slid open on oiled hinges, and someone stepped through. Their footsteps were heavy. The half-elf didn't want to look at them. She kept her eyes closed.

"Hello, Child of Bhaal." Reflexively in response, she opened her eyes.

The man with the bright blue eyes was here. His sickeningly pale sister in a scant amount of dark leathers gave a sharp-toothed grin as she trailed behind him, pulling behind her what the half-elf recognized as the red-haired girl by the wrist. The girl's stare was blank, and she gave a small giggle, clearly off in her own little land in her head.

Once, she would have panicked and try to break free. Now… she didn't have anything left. There was no more fire in her heart, only the burns on her skin.

The man with the bright blue eyes had a different expression this time. For once, he looked excited. _He knows_, the half-elf thought wildly. _He knows he's won._

They moved her. Somebody carried her and practically threw her into a tube of glass. Her eyes smarted as hit the bottom hard, smashing her legs more. The pain was enough to make her vision go red.

She heard the words of an incantation. She hadn't been aware of others in the room, but she heard them scream until the silence of death took them. Six lives were gone in under a minute. Her blood blazed hotter than any wildfire through her veins. She felt as if she were being cooked from the inside out. Then, all at once, she felt as if her body was being ripped away.

The half-elf was screaming. Screaming as the darkness came and swallowed her whole.

* * *

Jaheira ran down the hallway as fast as her legs could carry her. She wished it had not taken so long for them to be able to assemble the inmates to their cause. Two weeks passed since Irenicus had taken Nimue from those of them that had gone to Spellhold to free Imoen. Each day, the screams had gotten worse.

The last had been nearly enough to curdle her blood.

Their group had found their things stashed away in a set of rooms connected to the asylum's entrance hall. Valygar and herself had subdued and tied up Lonk, took his keys, and unlocked the both the cell doors and the doors that led to the entrance of the asylum. She took Minsc with her when she found the chests and the crates with their things stored inside and left Kivan and Valygar to gather the inmates together.

Only moments before she had stood before them.

"Irenicus is the one that has done this to all of you! To all of us! Stand with us, and we can stop him!"

There had been murmurs, questions, fear. Tiax began to pipe up with some outburst or another of how he was "ruler" and it would be his decision.

The screaming had started again, shattering the moment. Hefting her club, Jaheira had turned and ran for the stairs that led into the basement. Now bolting down the hallway, she noted that all of the other inmates of the asylum had followed her. If they were willing battlers or panicked souls following her lead, she didn't know. All she knew was she had to get to the door.

A familiar face came around the corner, tailed by a three darkly dressed figures. Jaheira slammed her booted feet hard into the tiled floor, sliding to a halt.

"Yoshimo, I suggest you get out my way, or you will feel the full fury of nature."

"I am sorry, Jaheira, but I have tried to explain-"

"You're a traitor. A traitor of the worse kind," Jaheira hissed. "Nimue trusted you. She was a friend. Now get out of my way, or I will make sure your end is painful."

The bounty hunter sighed. "You know I can't. Do... do you know what happens when you defy a Geas? It hurts, more than anything you could ever dream of, and then you die."

"Then you best hopes it hurts less than me turning you and your master inside out." With that, Jaheira grabbed her club with both hands and swung.

Yoshimo was fast enough to get out of the way, but one of his lackeys was not. The spiked end came down on his head with a sickening crack and the man tumbled to the ground, still. This was a mistake, however, as it left her sides open. Jaheira pulled the club back as fast as she could and spun away, but this had given one of the others to draw his own weapon and swing for Jaheira. She braced herself for the pain as the blade whistled through the air.

It struck an invisible barrier just inches from her skin before bouncing back.

"Tiax rules all, and Tiax proclaims that you are not to hit his realm's favourite tree-hugger!"

Spellhold's other inmates, it seemed, had a good sense of timing.

Spells flashed from behind her, and Jaheira took advantage of her current opponent's surprise by snapping down her club on his head, too. She heard Minsc give a furious battlecry and ducked out of the way before he pummeled into her as he was charging down the hallway, managing to heft his huge sword without hurting anyone on his own side.

The small amount of chaos caused by this was enough for Yoshimo to have disappeared. The third of the men that had followed him was much more prepared, deftly weaving and dodging away from Minsc.

Jaheira chanted under her breath as she watched the battle. It was not much, but it would be a small boon.

The tiled floor shook and cracked as ancient roots forced their way through a few feet behind the third opponent. They snaked across the floor silently, latching onto bodies of the two men that had already been felled by Jaheira's club and obscuring them from sight as even more roots slid further along.

The third man leapt with surprise as the roots first began to snake up his legs, holding him in place. He was struggling to break free, this serving as enough of a distraction for Minsc to bring him down with his greatsword.

"Jaheira, watch out!"

Something blunt hit her hard in the back of the head before she had time to register where the voice had come from. It wasn't hard enough to knock her out, but it was enough to daze her and cause her to stumble forward before nearly crashing to the ground. She heard Minsc pound past her again with another roar. A crossbow released loudly farther down the hallway behind her.

Shaking herself roughly, Jaheira stood back up with her club in hand and spun around, but it was already too late for her to rejoin the battle. Yoshimo was down, Jaheira noting a crossbow bolt in his eye as Kivan wrenched his long sword out of the now-deceased bounty-hunter's chest. Minsc had a saddened expression. Valygar was pushing through the asylum's inmates with a crossbow in hand, looking at it approvingly.

Yoshimo drew a ragged breath and Jaheira took back that thought. _Not quite so dead yet._ She strode towards him, the blood under her booted feet slick on the floor. He looked up at her, choking on the air. "I… I am sorry. Ill… Illmater rede… redeem me."

Jaheira would have taken the time to say something, but she was not sure if she should. Her words would have been between a mix of anger and pity, both things useless to the dead. She instead turned and ran down the hall to where from where Yoshimo and his three fellows had come from. The roots she had called upon earlier had receded away, and Jaheira concentrated on conserving the rest of her spells for healing. She heard the others running behind her.

Kivan caught up to and kept pace with her, still carrying his long sword- his longbow that was far too big for him to comfortably use in the hallways was slung over his shoulder. His face was unreadable as ever, but for the first time in the two weeks, he seemed to be aware instead of in his own world of mourning. Jaheira hadn't had the patience to try to talk him out of it—her mourning was a white hot fire while his was something… odd. Deep and dark were the only words she could think of to describe it. She wasn't even sure what had caused this bout only that it had started before Nimue had been taken.

Nimue would have had the patience to deal with him.

Would have?

Jaheira pushed the thoughts away. _No, not past tense. She's still alive. She's still alive, but she's hurt, and I must get to her as fast as I can._

There were two heavy wood doors in the next hall on the right. Jaheira slammed into them, trying to pushing them open. They were locked. She could hear people inside. Kivan tried next, as if it would make a difference, but no avail.

"Minsc! Get over here!" she shouted.

The berserker surged forward, charging into the door. The wood groaned under the combination of his massive weight and strength. Jaheira backed out farther into the hallway as Minsc backed up and charged into the door again. This time, the wood cracked.

"These are some very stubborn doors, aren't they Boo?" she heard Minsc ask his rodent. She spotted the hamster squirming out of a pouch on his belt before scampering up to Minsc's left shoulder. He gave it an affection scratch on the head before delicately picking it up and putting it back in the pouch and charging into the doors again.

Minsc went inwards with them.

Kivan was the first in after him, followed closely by Valygar and a few of the inmates. Jaheira was last to enter, following behind Dili the shapeshifter who was currently in the form of a little girl.

The chamber was dimly lit, but large. Glass tubes large enough to fit people in them (some already had a few poor, hapless souls within) lined the walls, giving an all too familiar feel to Irencius' other prison. There were a few tables throughout, a number with papers strewn about them. Two were on either side of a glass tube in the center, one covered with knives and other sharp implements, the other empty other than the binds on it.

Jaheira spotted something inside the center tube. A person, curled up on their side with their knees to their head. Pale hair stained with red stripes. Torn light blue robes that seemed too large for the individual wearing them, ruby marks throughout. For a moment, her heart sunk as she saw the figure inside still and unmoving.

They took the smallest of breaths.

She ran towards the glass. "Nimue!" No response. Jaheira pressed her hands to the glass, striking it with her fists hoping to get the girl's attention. Again, no response.

The others had come forward, but Jaheira motioned them back. When she was sure they had cleared back, she lifted her club and swung at the glass. It crunched easily under the weapon, breaking into hundreds of tiny shards. They fell on Nimue in a shimmering, thin layer. Jaheira knelt down, reaching to pull her free from the remnants of the tube.

There was a scream and the sounds of bones being cracked. Jaheira stood and turned quickly enough to see Wanev the mage falling to the floor, his eyes wide and void of life. The other inmates of Spellhold were already limp on the ground. Minsc raised his massive sword and took a combat stance. Kivan had sheathed his sword and had drawn his bow, arrow notched, already have noting that the room was spacious enough for him to be able to use his favoured weapon. Valygar held the loaded crossbow high. Jaheira lifted her club.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. I don't think I'd move another inch. Unless, of course, you want to see what little Immy's neck looks like when it's snapped," Bodhi crooned. She stepped out of the shadows and walked into the middle of the bodies of Spellhold's inmates, an arm over Imoen's shoulders. The young red-haired rogue only giggled, her eyes glazed over and unaware of what was happening around her.

"Evil vampire lady is here? She killed all these people? We ought to-!"

"Minsc, silence yourself," Jaheira said quietly. "What do you want, Bodhi?"

"Oh, little old me?" Bodhi laughed. She grinned with sharp teeth, "I just want to play a little game with you. You missed my dear brother—always busy, you know—but Irenicus promised I could be the one to dispose of you."

"Clearly you have other plans, as you're stalling," Valygar growled.

Bodhi grinned wider. "Perceptive. Oh, I would lock you all back up so we can all see how long it takes for the body to die without a soul. Imoen's already been going three weeks, but Nimue… we can start counting from oh... so many minutes ago, let's not get too elaborate."

"How long it takes for the body to die without…" Jaheira trailed off. "What have you done?"

"Me? I've done nothing," Bodhi laughed. "Well, nothing but accept Imoen's cheery little soul as my own. It was all Irenicus' idea, and so of course, he took the more powerful of the two Bhaalspawn's souls for himself."

"Two Bhaalspawn?"

The vampire laughed. "Oh! You didn't know that Imoen was of similar brood as Nimue? I guess this makes them sisters of a sort. Well, doesn't matter if you did or didn't—Irenicus and I will live, they'll both die. Irenicus will get his revenge soon now, but I'm too impatient, too bored, and too hungry to wait on him. Hence why the little game."

"Revenge? Game? What are you talking about? Speak!" Jaheira snapped.

"Mmm… no. I don't think so. I hold the leverage here, after all. I think the only things the four of you are in the position to do are to sheathe your weapons, put up your hands, and do exactly as I tell you."

The druid narrowed her eyes at Bodhi. The vampire just smirked back.

"I wonder how Bhaalspawn blood tastes. I should take a sample here from Imoen I'm waiting for-."

"Alright. Do as she says," Jaheira ordered coldly. She hung her club from a loop on her belt and then held up her hands to show she had no other weapons, hearing the others putting away their own weapons.

Bodhi smiled as the others followed Jaheira's example. "You. The elf with the blue marks," Jaheira noticed the way she hissed the word 'elf'. "I don't like the look of you. You can carry Nimue. Can't hurt me if you're too busy carrying your pretty little friend."

Jaheira nodded at Kivan, but whether he saw her she did not know. He only stared blankly at Bodhi and backed towards the remains of the glass tube, never taking his eyes off her. He lifted Nimue carefully out of the remnants, mostly avoiding the glass shards. They would have to get the ones that fell on her off and check, Jaheira noted. She also noted how Kivan's went from unreadable to an angered scowl.

Nimue's head lolled to the side, and Jaheira swore. She began to step back to examine the visible wounds.

"Ah, remember what I said. Exactly as I say," Bodhi warbled. "You have her? Good. I think I'll keep Imoen for now. Follow me."

The vampire grabbed Imoen by the wrist as if she were taking a child by the hand and pulled the girl after her. Imoen simply went along, the same blank stupid expression on her face. Jaheira followed after her, hearing the footfalls of the others behind. She lowered her head, ashamed to being forced to listen to the orders of such an abomination like she were a loyal lapdog.


	4. I-II (Arc I: Spellhold, Chapter II)

II

_(Arc I: Spellhold, Chapter II)_

* * *

_The knife was inches away from her fingers, glinting under the dim light._

_Khalid was holding his shield high, deflecting Sarevok's onslaught of blows as if he were a fierce warrior that never doubted himself in a battle. With a furious roar, Jaheira joined her husband, smashing down on Sarevok's head with her club and putting a dent into the metal._

_This seemed to stun the massive warrior, giving Khalid plenty of room to smash Sarevok with his shield and strike for the weak place in-between where the breastplate and shoulders of Sarevok's armour connected. Imoen dove from the shadows then and slammed her knives into a similar weak spot in the back part of his armour._

_Sarevok grunted in pain, the dazed state he had been in finally wearing off. He swung at Khalid, the tip of his massive sword bouncing off of the half-elf's armour and forcing him back. He then spun, and simple luck shined that Jaheira had begun to move away and Imoen threw herself to the floor and rolled away, sparing the former from a more serious injury and the latter from any. _

_He turned to Nimue then. "Your dear "brother" may have saved you for a few moments, but he cannot save you now!"_

_She, however, did not look at them. Instead, she was staring at her twin's body. Ruby life pooled around his crumpled, headless form, but her eyes truly did not see for her vision had become unfocused. To the others, her silver eyes looked like if they had become like that of a doll- glass and devoid of all emotion. Almost downright creepy. _

_An arrow shot from the other side of the room smacked into the back of Sarevok's helm. It struck hard despite not piercing the metal, but it was just enough to get Sarevok's attention. Their heavily armoured opponent turned away from Nimue, and faced the last of the group. _

_The elf ranger's hood had fallen, long dark hair pouring out. His dark eyes framed by the blue tattoos and blood spatter upon his face were completely calm. He slung his bow back over his shoulder and grabbed his sword, flipping the red-soaked blade over in his hands casually._

_"Ah, so the foolish elf has decided to join the party as well," Sarevok said, laughing. He nodded to the ogre's body near the elf, numerous arrows and spear gouges in the flesh of the corpse. "Tazok told me about you. He always laughed when he reached the part of your story when your wife squealed as he cut off her ears. Too bad you killed him yet again."_

_There wasn't even a question or a cry of rage. He simply gave a blank stare at Sarevok, like he had no purpose any longer, and stepped forward. Impatience took the heavily armoured man, and lifting his sword, he charged at Kivan. _

_Nimue looked away from her brother's body and to his knife that had fallen in front of her. She had never carried one, even when Tris had tried to teach her. "I read a single drawn blade could scare Lliira and her favour away!" she had shouted at him as a child. Tristan had just scoffed at her and would throw his hands up, leaving._

_"Your loss! You'll need to know one day- you'll see!" he had shouted._

_She reached her hand out and clasped her hand around the hilt. Her fingers shook; she wasn't sure why. She looked like a tiny, trembling child as she lifted it, glancing at the sharpened edges. There were nicks and scratches, but the surface was smooth. It was a testament to the fact Tris had loved this knife. He had taken it off of a shipment that had come into Candlekeep a few months after they turned eleven and had always used it after._

_Shakily, Nimue stood, blankly looking at the battle carrying the knife in her hand. She knew she was supposed to keep the point downwards, but much more than that, she wasn't sure. In her small hands, it looked awkward, and if she fell with it, she was more than likely to impale herself upon the blade._

_Khalid and Jaheira rejoined the fray. Imoen leapt on Sarevok's back with a shout, ripping off his helm before the massive man flipped her over his shoulder, forcing the others to back off for a moment if they did not wish to harm one of their companions as Imoen fell and slammed to the ground. _

_Before Sarevok could do anything to harm her, Khalid was there blocking the blow with his shield. His arm was shaking. Sweat was pouring off of Jaheira's brow. Imoen was slow getting back to her feet and wobbled. Kivan, even though he had just joined the fight with Sarevok, had nearly singlehandedly killed Tazok once more, and it was beginning show wear as he moved slower. They did not have much left._

_"Look for the weak spots," she heard Tris saying in her mind, only a few months before. "Even if you're just using that staff or your sling, you can hurt somebody if you know where the weak spots are."_

_She had lost her sling not long into their journey under the city. Her staff was lying on the other side of the room, cast from her after she had unknowingly had come too close to the melee. The knife she had in her hands was all she had. She could see Sarevok's neck openly exposed now that Imoen had torn his helm off..._

* * *

The light here was odd. It was a bloody red, like the sun was rising on a stormy morn, but there was no sun here. No, the only things here were the empty blackness of the abyss and the twinkling pinpricks of the stars.

Nimue shook. She felt colder. She was lonely too. It hurt too much to go back though. At least here, she could remember her friends' names. Her own name. Her home.

Home.

The word made her eyes sting with salt and water. For years, she had longed to leave it, to see the storybook world she had painted in her mind that awaited her outside. The world the mother she had never known had come from, the world her father had taken her from. When papa had told Tristan and her to gather only the things they needed and that they were leaving Candlekeep, Nimue remembered she had been as excited as her twin, perhaps more.

Then that night had happened. Gorion had died, telling them to run as he fell. Tristan had to drag her away as she screamed for him to go back, that they could save him.

The only road back home opened up nearly a year later as they chased after the Iron Throne through the book Duke Eltan had given them that would open Candlekeep's doors to her and her allies. Tristan had refused to go with her, Dynaheir staying by his side for her own reasons and Khalid remaining with him to keep an eye on him. The memories even then had been raw and painful to both. Tristan said they could have just sent the others, but Nimue wanted to go back. She needed to go back.

There had been doppelgangers, waiting under Candlekeep when they escaped after Sarevok attempted to frame them for the murders of the Iron Throne leaders. Faces of those she had once known twisted and distorted against her. They hated her. They had wanted her blood.

Nimue wished she had never left home.

Around her, shaped stone and earth began take shape, blooming from the shadows. It was a sight she'd seen before in her dreams after Imoen had been taken away to Spellhold. A decrepit Candlekeep rose up before her, the spires of the great library-fortress tumbled down and the walls cracked. Where there had once been fountains overflowing with cool water were fragments of the abyss, the stars seeming larger and brighter when Nimue viewed them from here. There was no longer grass, only hard dirt and rocks under her feet.

"This... this isn't home anymore," she murmured to herself, sorrow gripping her. "I'm all alone in a place that's become far from home."

"I would have to reach an agreement with you there. This place is far too happy for one of my ilk."

Nimue turned and nearly tumbled backwards in fear. Sarevok, or at least someone that looked remarkably like Sarevok. It was much bigger, and its eyes glowed ruby from under its massive helm. "W-who are you?" she stammered.

"I am the blood, the instinct within that will fuel the father, fool! Now be a good little girl and fall to your knees, and pray to your miserable little gods," the armoured figure spat. "I am within you! I am your essence! I cannot be denied!"

"What do you want from me?" Nimue asked, backing away.

"What do I want from you? I want your life! Your life, your soul, your body! I am the instinct! I am the blood!"

She felt as if she had been lit on fire again. Her blood boiled in her veins. She crumbled to the ground, desperately trying to get it to stop. The pain was unbearable. "No, go away! I want nothing with you!"

The armoured monster chuckled. "You may as well ask to live without the blood in your veins, or to be denied the breath of air! I am of you and within you; I am what you should have been!"

Nimue struggled in the dirt, crawling away until she could pull herself to her feet and run, the fire still burning her veins.

The Blood laughed again. "You can run as much as you want- I _will_ catch up to you eventually, and you shall not be able to fight me then!"

* * *

Nimue murmured again, her eyes moving quickly under their lids. Jaheira put a hand on the girl's forehead and then quickly wrenched it away. She had expected a fever, but not for the young half-elf to feel like she was being cooked alive.

The druid had healed what she could. There were fewer scars than she had thought there would be. There were two particularly noticeable ones on her face. One went from the far corner of her right brow that descended down the side of her face in a semi-circle to her jaw. The other went across her left cheekbone to the bridge of her nose. Then there were Nimue's legs, the right already having been in bad enough condition that she had a noticeable limp as she walked after they had left Irenicus' hospitality the first time. Jaheira was not sure if the girl would be able to even stand correctly when she woke up.

If she woke up.

Jaheira pushed the thought away and stood, glaring up the wall that led to a small balcony that overlooked the dimly red lit maze Bodhi had dragged them into. "Alright, Bodhi. Explain your little game."

Bodhi peered down, flashing a bright smile. "First things first. Catch!"

The vampire, whom still held onto Imoen's wrist, pushed the red-haired rogue in front of herself and pushed her off the edge. Imoen squealed happily, not seeming to notice that if she hit the floor from where she fell, there would be little they could do for them. Minsc reacted faster than Jaheira had ever seen him, the large man diving forward with his arms out. Jaheira sighed in relief as he caught her.

"Little Imoen is not a toy to be thrown!" Minsc shouted up at Bodhi, setting the giggling mess that was Imoen down. "We ought to cut your evil into little pieces!"

"You may have the chance, but first, you need to play," Bodhi laughed. "This here is my little gauntlet. It used to be where they sent the inmates to be tested for their sanity, but after Irenicus replaced the last director of Spellhold… well, let's say the wizard that operated the test is busy elsewhere."

"And let me guess, you want us to run like rats in your maze?" Jaheira snarled back to her.

"Indeed, and if you're good, quick little rats, you may even be able to get out of here freer than birds and chase down Irenicus," the vampire gave another laugh, "but I doubt that you will. Slow little rats are food for poor, starving me… and a few friends. Clock's ticking, ticking tock, and I'd wish you luck, but I'm quite famished. I know you understand."

An arrow whistled up at Bodhi, whom cackled and dissipated into a fine mist before it struck. It sailed straight through her incorporeal form as it began to float away. Kivan lowered his bow as Jaheira swore angrily.

"Poof! Away she goes!" Imoen cackled.

* * *

Nimue had never been much of a runner. She could keep pace with the others when they travelled on the roads, but when they started running, it had been a challenge. Carrying a staff about the same height as her and wearing long robes were not optimal for doing such. After she had been first held in captivity by Irenicus, the most she could do was try to limp faster after the others and be thankful she could at least half-way use protective spells and invocations at range.

Her lack of practice showed here. Even though her legs supported her weight properly here, the bottom of her robes had been cut off to the middle of her knees, and she did not have her staff to worry about, Nimue was still slow. In fear, she kept looking back over her shoulder. The fact that the armoured creature was only walking towards her and getting closer each time she looked made her more nervous and frantic, contributing to her slowness. Nimue wanted nothing to do with the blood of Bhaal.

She looked over her shoulder again and did not see her pursuer. Nimue came to a halt, gasping for breath. Had it gone away? Had the monster that claimed it was of the blood, Bhaal's blood, vanished?  
She looked up as she heard a blade whistling through the air, gasped, and threw herself to the ground. The Blood laughed heartily at her as it missed and she scrabbled away and back to her feet. "You cannot escape me!" it shouted as she ran away again.

She scrambled towards the steps that led inside Candlekeep. They were badly damaged and crumbling under her, but they did not fall. If she could get inside, Nimue knew she could find somewhere to hide.

The doors did not want to open. Nimue determinedly threw all of her small weight against them and pushed, but there was little avail. "Please! I'll give anything you want, but don't let it catch me! Please open!" she pleaded. Nimue grabbed the handles, pushing on the door again. All at once, several tiny sharp blades stabbed into her palm. She pulled it away, looking at the pricks in her hand each oozing a little bit of blood. The tiny blades glistened with her blood.

The doors swung open of their own accord.

Not questioning, Nimue squeezed her hand shut and ran inside. She did not look about the darkened shelves, somehow instinctively knowing that the books and scrolls there were as damaged as the fortress itself. She ran for the stairs that led upstairs, grabbing the railing and beginning to run up.

"Wait!" a familiar voice called softly.

Nimue spun around, looking about the shelves as she drank in another breath of air. In the dim light, she spotted someone sitting between two of the shelves in a nearby corner, their knees drawn up to their chin. As she drew closer, she could make out the dark leathers and the bright pink cloak that had been mended numerous times over. They looked at Nimue with wide, bright blue eyes, short red hair falling around their face.

"Imoen?"

* * *

The others had left. Most of them, anyway. The one with the blue marks, and the hood had stayed. She knew his name. He was Kivan. He had come back to the group, but Imoen hadn't been there when that happened.

He had stayed behind to watch them. Jaheira needed to go with the others. They needed someone that could heal others if they got hurt. They also needed to figure out how to get out of Bodhi's maze. They couldn't move Nimue or herself if they were doing that.

Imoen rocked back and forth on her heels, clasping her knees and laughing, but she wasn't sure why. She just felt like giggling now. Just before the others left, she had screamed how she wanted to kill them. They looked scared. Or was alarmed the better word? She felt bad and had sat down as they left.

Kivan stood near Nimue, sharply alert and poised to kill if anything. Imoen tilted her head and laughed more as she noticed this. She guessed he stayed to watch Nimue more than her. They were friends. Had to become friends because Kivan shot arrows safely from behind the group standing beside Nimue and was Nimue's primary defense if anything got past the rest of them and went straight for her. Well, not _had to_, it was just that no one could avoid cheerful Nimue without at least talking to her. And talking to her tended to lead to most becoming friends with her. Or irritated.

Imoen remembered Nimue cried when he had left the group after what happened with Sarevok. But Nimue had been crying a lot then. Tris had died. Khalid and Jaheira were talking about leaving. Minsc and Dynaheir wanted to go back to Rashemen. She had lots of reasons to cry then.

There were footsteps somewhere nearby. Kivan readied an arrow and disappeared up the stairs.

Imoen didn't budge. She kept laughing to herself, and rocking back and forth. Her mind was a wreck. For brief moments, just as she had, she would have some clarity. Then things would scramble, become confused and muddied, and she'd be right back where they started. She didn't mind too much. Whatever was happening outside her mind could no longer affect her like it used to.

"Imoen?"

The voice was hoarse and weak, but one Imoen knew. It grated harshly on her mind. She wanted to yell and scream again. "Shh!" she hissed.

"Imoen?" once again the voice repeated.

Imoen grabbed her head. "Shh... it hurts! It hurts too much Nimue!"

Nimue.

Everything came together, like mending a hole in a cloak. She, Imoen, was a Bhaalspawn, like Nimue. They had shattered her will and her mind and taken her soul for the vampire named Bodhi. They used her to bait Nimue to them, knowing Nimue would do anything to save those she considered close friends. Knowing what they had done to her, Imoen could guess that Nimue, too, had gone through the same if not worse treatment to have her soul robbed as well.

Her head pounded. She crawled over to Nimue, wincing with every movement. "Nimue, I'm sorry, I'm here," Imoen began. "I don't know for how much longer. It's hard to concentrate."

"The blood..." Nimue coughed, her eyes moving wildly beneath their lids, "the blood is coming. It hurts... like I'm on fire."

On some basic, primal level, Imoen understood what Nimue was experiencing. She had felt it when Nimue had described her nightmares that had given her odd powers which they had later connected to her Bhaalspawn blood. It made more sense now. Nimue's own blood wanted to drown her like Imoen's own damaged mind wished to suffocate her.

She clasped Nimue's hands. "It's alright. We can fight it together."

"Together," Nimue murmured.

Imoen heard numerous others approaching behind her and glanced over her shoulder, holding on to what she could now say as her sister's hands. Jaheira, Minsc, Kivan, and the other dark-skinned man she did not know had returned. Kivan said something low to Jaheira.

Imoen's head hurt too much to look at them all at once, too many things rushing together at once. She winced and looked back to Nimue. "Even these old codgers are here. We'll fight it all together, as well always have," Imoen joked through the aching in her head.

Minsc let out a small cry of surprise. "Old? Minsc is not old! Minsc is spry! Spryer than a chicken spring! Or... oh. Boo says it's 'spring chicken'."

Imoen wasn't sure if Nimue heard her this time. She had fallen silent again, unmoving other than her light breaths and eyes moving quickly beneath sealed eyelids.

Jaheira kneeled down beside her. "Imoen, are you alright?"

"My head hurts, and I can't concentrate well. I'm trying, though. My sister needs me."

* * *

"It's alright. We can fight it together," Imoen replied, standing. Her eyes were bright, and she was stronger than she had been before.

Nimue nodded. "Together."

"Touching." The Blood had found its way inside the keep in the time it had taken her to speak to Imoen. Nimue turned and stared at it, almost petrified. The Blood just laughed. "A little family reunion won't stop me!"

"We will. You won't stop us. We'll find our souls and be free of you!" Imoen shouted, stepping forward flashing bright, silvery daggers. Nimue wanted to stop her, to tell her that there was not a chance that the two of them alone could stand against such an opponent. It finally struck her then, and she felt foolish for missing such.

Nimue stepped forward too, mustering as much of her own strength as she could. She felt different after whatever had happened with the doors when she tried to enter the ruined Candlekeep. "She's right. You won't stop us, and we _will_ find our souls."

"Find your soul?" the Blood laughed harder. "Ah, and now it makes so much more sense! Without that worthless thing, you're empty, aren't you? And what do you think will fill all the little empty holes? Yes, that's right. The anger, the hatred, the _blood_!"

Nimue shook her head and glared. "No, it won't. I won't let you go any farther."

* * *

"We need to move. We can't wait here any longer with that vampire and whatever friends she's brought along skulking about. We have what we need to move," Valygar stated.

Jaheira shook her head. "I don't want to move Nimue again, not while she's like this. It's best if she-."

"I apologise, Jaheira, but I agree with Valygar. We need to get out of here, quickly, if we wish to avoid a fight. Waiting here will not do Nimue any good either," Kivan's tone was stern and flat, as if he were only stating a fact.

The druid looked at the pale-haired half-elf girl. Imoen was still kneeled down beside her, holding onto Nimue's hands as if that were the only thing keeping her alive. Jaheira contemplated for a moment.

Finally, she nodded and faced the others. "Alright, we'll move, but we must be careful."

"Jaheira!"

Jaheira turned fully around, responding to Imoen's call. "What is it?"

Nimue sat up slowly, her silvery eyes that were somewhat large for her face alert and looking around as if she were astonished to be where she was. With a horribly hoarse voice, she looked over to them. "What has happened? Where are we?"


End file.
